tagged 
Bible
Bible Bring the Script to Life
Thursday, July 7, 2011 at 09:41AM 
The only way to make the music come alive is to sing or play. To realize a script requires you and your friends to act, film, and edit.
Students of Jesus have been given a gift filled with music to sing and roles to play. It’s called the Bible. The Father has given us an inspired instrument for taking the yoke of discipleship. He waits for those who will take the instrument and learn to play. One of the great challenges in the life of a believer is learning how to experience the life God intends for us through the instrument of the Scripture.
To some, the Scripture is a book of rules. To others, the Bible is an object of study, not much different from learning math or history. And sadly, for some Christians the Bible is the primary resource for criticizing others. They use the Scripture as a measuring stick--one they hold up against others but rarely to themselves. Perhaps you’ve met believers like this: people who get the words right but the music all wrong. After all, it’s easier to relate to a book than a person. Books don’t talk back. You can pick and choose where to read. And if you’re among the smart kids in class you can demonstrate your superiority through your mastery of books.
I’ve posted previously my suggestions on how students of Jesus can relate to the Bible. I hope those suggestions are life-giving because the Bible is meant to be a life-giving experience for God’s people. Time with the scripture is meant to be time with the Creator, an event to be lived, breathed, sung, acted, collaborated, shouted, and danced. The Bible is the Holy Spirit’s permanent address, and he’s always home--yet he is not confined to ink on a page. He’s the Breath of God, the wind which blows where it wills.
Would it be too heretical to suggest that the words of the Bible on the printed page are not really the word of God until we act upon them? Music on the printed page isn’t really music until the musician brings it to life. When an actor speaks the words of the script a thousand meanings jump to life. The word of God is meant to be living and active. Perhaps that’s why Jesus is called “the Word of God.”
Eugene Peterson says it this way:
“Christians don’t simply learn or study or use Scripture; we assimilate it, take it into our lives in such a way that it gets metabolized into acts of love, cups of cold water, missions into all the world, healing and evangelism and justice in Jesus’ name, hands raised in adoration of the Father, feet washed in the company of the Son.”Who could argue with a Bible that's alive in every neighborhood, acting out the love of God? Don't tell me you have the right answers, show me how those answers impact the way you live. Is there really any other kind of Christianity except applied Christianity? That’s the kind of book I want to spend my life with. How about you?
Monday's Meditation: The Last Guy at the Party
Monday, July 4, 2011 at 02:26AM 
First, C.S. Lewis wrote an absolutely inspired book on the subject of Hell, The Great Divorce. Recommending a book on such a personal topic is about as warm and caring as telling a sick person, "take two aspirin and call me in the morning." But here’s the deal: Lewis' work is a first-person narrative that never chides, doesn't preach, and brings light instead of heat to the discussion. It is vastly better than Rob Bell’s book. God bless Rob Bell for raising questions about our motives when it seems many Christians are cheering for the fires of torment. We are all the better for giving serious attention to his questions. Sadly, Love Wins falls disappointingly short on answers.
Second, a hundred years ago I took lifeguard training from the Red Cross. One of the situations we trained for is when a panicked swimmer actually resists rescue because of, well . . . panic. The issue of Hell is a lot like that. I've haven't seen any comments during the debate this year on John 3:17 (That's 17, right after the overworked verse, John 3:16): "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him." Jesus doesn't condemn, he comes to save.
It shouldn't raise much debate: we plainly see people drowning all around us: drowning in sorrow, in fear, addictions, injustice, and ignorance. For many people Hell isn't after they die, it's today. The kind of salvation needed is the kind that lifts and rescues now and in the age to come. Only the most foolish followers of Jesus actually tell others, "you're going to Hell" for three reasons: (1) it rarely changes anyone's heart, (2) we don't know it all, and (3) we're not Jesus, so it's not our call to make. How foolish would it be for a lifeguard to stand on the shore and shout, "Hey! You in the blue swimsuit! You're drowning!" Better to run into the ocean Baywatch style.
Finally (OK, I said two, but this is a bonus), I'd like to suggest a game-changing question: when does eternal life begin? For my money, I'll go with Jesus' words in John 17:3: "Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent." Only a fool thinks of eternal life in terms of time-orientation. Eternal life is qualitative: knowing the Father and knowing Jesus. How soon can that start? Forget about Hell: how many believers are waiting for eternal life to begin after they die when all the while they could enter in now?
Yep, the party’s just about over. There may not be anyone left to listen. Maybe I’m that guy, sitting at the bar talking to the clean up crew, and they’re thinking, “Dude, give it up and go home.” Either way, be careful, everyone.
Lazarus Quenby and the Reasonable Dinner Party
Thursday, June 30, 2011 at 11:34AM 
Lazarus Quenby, bored with the reasonable and respectable conversation at dinner, discreetly glanced at his pocket watch at the very moment the dinner party at Waddesford Manor came to an unexpected end. The ninth-century floor support beam gave way, plunging the dinner party deep into the caverns beneath the manor. There, buried beneath the rubble and Tudor-style furniture, six people found themselves under the banquet table which had served twelve generations of Waddesfords by holding their dinner. The table’s last service to the family was to hold the debris at bay while the six dinners scrambled toward the cavern and took inventory of their injuries and each other.
“Is everyone all right?”
“Charles? Is that you? I’m well, my dear,” answered Victoria. “But I seem to have someone’s limb in my face.”
“That would be me, Vickie.”
“Good God, David!” barked Sir Charles Waddesford, who always felt the need to take charge. “Remove your limb from my wife at once.”
“Yes, thank you, Charles. I’m all right.” said David, “What of Eleanore, Mary and Lazarus?”
“We are fine,” said Lazarus. “Eleanore, Mary and I are over here--and we’ve accounted for our limbs as well.”
Beneath the Manor were ancient caverns discovered when builders laid foundations for the main hall at Waddesford ten centuries before. They very reasonably sank foundations into the bedrock forty feet below. They failed to reason that both the cavern and the Manor were living things in their own right, and that a thousand years of even the subtlest movements would cause the disruption of soups served a millennium hence.
Perhaps more distressing than the interruption of the meal was the darkness of their present situation: the six diners were unharmed but found themselves accosted by deep darkness. Not the kind of darkness to which one could become accustomed after a few moments. Pitch darkness, the sort of which one could not see a hand six inches in front of one’s face. The kind of darkness that removes all other sense of place and time: there remains only a dread blackness.
“Everyone remain calm,” ordered Sir Charles, though no one had shown the slightest inclination toward panic. “Surely six reasonable adults can find our way back up to the Manor.”
“Reason’s not the thing, Charlie,” said Lazarus. “What we need is a damned bit of light.”
Lazarus Quenby was correct. If they were ever to get back to soups and finally see the main course, the dinner party needed light, not reason. Their greatest need was to have their situation illuminated, so they could make wise decisions based upon what they saw . . .
From the distress of our aristocratic friends we can learn the difference between reason and revelation, which are in no way opposed to one another.Reason is what we use once we seen things for what they are; revelation enables us to see what we would not be able to see otherwise. A little bit of light goes a long way. Forever, in fact. Perhaps light comes first in the order of creation because it is of first importance.
Some people suppose that revelation and faith are the same thing. Hardly. The Biblical notion of faith springs from trust. Revelation is to see things at last as they really are--with a clarity so vivid that trust is no longer an issue. When the two met on the road to Damascus, the Apostle Paul did not need faith to know that Jesus was real. Jesus settled the question of his resurrected reality with a blinding light. Paul did require, however, faith to trust in the goodness and kindness of Jesus.
To those living in darkness--including many who claim to have faith in Christ--the in breaking of light reveals powerfully the need to change course, to re-prioritize, or to re-order our lives around what is clearly true.
The light is not always convenient to those who have learned to navigate the shadowlands of self-sufficiency. The light is seldom welcomed amidst religious tradition because they believe they have ordered their world properly, and so have been unable to see the changes in the new landscape. The light always presents a challenge to those trust in their own intelligence. Not because their intelligence is invalid but because in the darkness they have launched out in the wrong direction, and if you’re lost no amount of reason can show you the right path.
“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen,” said C.S. Lewis. “Not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” That’s why Christianity begins with revelation. After we see things clearly God encourages us to use the rational mind to order our affairs in light of his revelation.
“How will we find our way out?” asked Victoria.
“It only stands to reason we should feel our way along, and follow any path that leads upward,” commanded Charles.
Just then Lazarus remembered the penlight attached to his key chain. Its dim beam was bright enough to cause the party to blink and shield their eyes.
“There appears to be something of a worn path in this direction,” he observed. “but it leads slightly down.” Charles remained adamant: the smart way out was up. He didn’t need the light to work his way back to the Manor. He turned and felt his way along the walls.
The rest of the dinner party quickly decided to follow Lazarus Quenby, who discovered a path that lead down and out to the place where a subterranean stream broke into an open field.
Even though the survivors sent search parties back underground, Sir Charles was never heard from again. Quenby married the widow Victoria and inherited the estate.
tagged Light, Revelation, faith, trust
Light, Revelation, faith, trust Monday's Meditation: Grace for Birth, Grace for Life
Monday, June 27, 2011 at 02:57PM 
A parable: two students each received scholarships to Harvard University. Full rides, every possible expense paid. Both were bright kids, and both felt intimidated by the reputation of such a great college. They each thought, “I don’t deserve to be here.”
One student studied day and night. She gave it all she had. The other student began to enjoy the thrill of college life: parties, the big-city and the freedom of being on his own for the very first time. By mid term the first student was still working hard, earning C’s and B’s in her classes. The other was failing every class and placed on academic probation. By Christmas the first student had earned a 3.0 GPA, but the second had flunked out of Harvard. Which of these two students laid hold of the opportunity given to them?
Of course the answer is the first student, humble and hard working. The gossips wagged their heads over the second: “How could he throw away an opportunity like that?”
The scholarship to Harvard was a gift of grace, but the truth was the work was just beginning. God’s grace does for us what we could not possibly do for ourselves. What is beyond our reach is joyfully paid in full by Jesus Christ, but the work is just beginning. The new birth is by grace, but what lies ahead is growth in Christ. God’s grace stands ready to supply the energy needed to navigate new life in Jesus, yet we must sadly acknowledge that there are many who squander the possibilities of new life in him.
Some people might object to the close association between grace and work. God’s grace comes with no strings attached, doesn’t it? No amount of effort on our part could win his pardon. True enough—it’s just not the whole story.
Consider another young man who received a full ride from Jesus: “For I am the least of the apostles and do not even deserve to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them—yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me.” (I Corinthians 15: 9-10) The Apostle Paul had no trouble seeing the connections between grace and work.
The grace of God is a calling to a new life. The only reasonable response to such grace is gratitude that moves us to action.
When We Expect God to do His Job
Thursday, June 23, 2011 at 11:31AM  |
| Poor, sickly Heinrich Heine |
Heinrich Heine lay on his deathbed in 1856. The German poet called his bed “the mattress grave” because he had been confined there for eight years. Born Jewish, converted to Christianity, living in Paris with his wife and mistress, he spoke his last words: “Of course God will forgive me, it’s his job.”
Sometimes I just want forgiveness. I want to be sure I won’t be hit by a lightning bolt. I want assurance there is a way out of the mess I’ve made. I want a system I can depend on, one that guarantees the outcome: forgiven.
I can find the Bible passage I need: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and send us away with the feeling that he has done his job.” (1 John 1:9, kind of) We want a God who is in the forgiveness business the way WalMart is in the cheap junk business: always open, ubiquitous, and always the low price. Always. We want the Jerusalem Temple system of sacrifice, except with as many locations as Starbucks, or more.
The book of Hebrews describes the Old Testament system of sacrifice for sin. Hebrews explains there was a High Priest who represented all the people of Israel. Once a year this priest performed his duties and gained forgiveness for all the people--for one more year. The next year he would do it again. And again. And so on. The High Priest followed the Old Testament instructions to the letter, and the people of the nation found them selves forgiven. Again. And again.
I like to try to imagine the High Priest sitting down with the people one-on-one after the annual ritual of sacrifice:
“Look,” the High Priest asks the busy Jerusalem businessman. “Aren’t you tired of doing the same thing every year? Don’t you ever want to learn how to live a better life? To grow so close to God that we don’t have to do this again and again?”
“Not really,” answers the man. “I’m a sinner. It’s what I do. You’re the Priest--you cleanse me--it’s what you do. Why don’t we both just do our jobs? See you next year.”
The Old Testament system provided atonement but was incapable of changing the heart. Forget about a change of heart: I just need forgiveness. I suspect many Christians see Jesus as a WalMart version the High Priest. We’ve found a Savior who forgives and forgives, and forgives again.
It’s true: in Jesus there are springs of forgiveness without end. But there’s more. If we want more. There’s relationship, empowerment, wisdom, insight, guidance, and strength to break the pattern of sin-and-forgiveness, sin-and-forgiveness. To see the work of Jesus as only an endless offering for sin is to consign him to the Old Testament priesthood, which may have provided atonement but was incapable of pulling us up from our lives of selfishness, foolishness, and the folly of our own way.
But Jesus is of a greater priesthood, capable of altering us at the very core. Hebrews tells us that Jesus wasn’t even an Old Testament priest in the sense of those who worked at the Temple. Hebrews points us to the shadowy figure named Melchidedek, from the book of Genesis:
This Melchizedek was king of Salem and priest of God Most High. He met Abraham returning from the defeat of the kings and blessed him, and Abraham gave him a tenth of everything. First, the name Melchizedek means “king of righteousness”; then also, “king of Salem” means “king of peace.” Without father or mother, without genealogy, without beginning of days or end of life, resembling the Son of God, he remains a priest forever. Hebrews 7:1-3)
This means Jesus offers something more than forgiveness. He offers right relationship and peace as well. In part, the message of Hebrews is about finding a way to break the sin-and-forgiveness cycle. What good is forgiveness if we remain the kind of people who are deeply broken in the center of our being? Who needs a priest who fixes up the outside of a person without repairing the inside?
Many believers have come to expect nothing but forgiveness from Jesus. All the while he stands ready to make us a new creation. He is the kind of priest who wants to work from the inside out. He’s the best kind of Savior, then kind who can transform us from habitual sinners into sons and daughters of the Most High.
The Old Testament prophets tried again and again to warn the people of Israel not to trust in religious formulas or systems. They pointed to a personal God who wanted children of his own.
- I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; (Ezekiel 36:26)
- “I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. (Jeremiah 31:33)
- Wait! There are too many examples to cite. You can trust me on this.
Over and over the prophets urged the people of Israel not to turn their relationship with God into a transaction. They cried out on God’s behalf, “I want relationship, not ritual.”
The powerful inclination of men, however, is to reduce the offer of new birth, new creation, new life and new relationship into nothing more than, “you do your job, and I’ll do mine.” How many of us do the same with Jesus? It’s the difference between getting what we want out of him, or whether he gets what he wants from us--a loving relationship built to last forever.
If I can find my way out of WalMart, I’ll choose the relationship. How about you?